Thea Devine
Page 13
“A.J.,” she chided, dismissing him by turning her attention back to Warfield’s convoluted prose.
The notion stuck. A new dress. One that perhaps would not have to be supported by stays. One that didn’t have so many buttons, buttons that were irreplaceable, buttons she had crawled on the floor that very morning to retrieve. A simple dress. One he could remove with …
She caught her breath. She was thinking that far ahead already. And even farther ahead than that. She wanted him to undress her. She wanted him—right now.
Maggie threw down her pencil and walked to the front door, then turned around to look back into the room. It was so different in daylight. There was no scent of lust in this room in the daylight. No sense of the sensual darkness that had enfolded her in its torrid embrace. In the darkness, she thought, she could be as brazen as a queen.
She felt the heat creep into her cheeks. She couldn’t keep thinking these thoughts. Her mind should be on business. Her mind was on Logan.
What if she should see him today? Could she look him in the eye after begging for his kisses and succumbing to his wanton caresses? Or did she only want him now in the dark, where the sole link between them was her desire for things erotic and forbidden?
What could she wear tonight to dress for him?
Why was she thinking this way?
Why was Jean looking at her so strangely from across the room?
She shook her head to clear away her dangerous thoughts and went outside, just for a moment, to let the clear oncoming spring air warm her.
She was a danger to herself, she thought, and she had not even known it. For the five years she had been courted and had been married to Frank, estranged from him, and finally widowed by him, she had never known the depth of hunger within her. And now it was unleased. She saw that she could become a slave to it—or that Logan could make her one.
Nonetheless, even that sobering thought could not deter her from thinking about the night ahead. She would slake her thirst, she thought; she would fill the bottomless craving with sensual experiences that she could store against the day when he would demand more.
It made so much sense. He knew her limits and he was willing to abide by the boundaries that she had delineated. She couldn’t see any reason why, in the cool light of the afternoon, she should not take advantage of what he was offering.
In the distance she saw Dennis Coutts on horseback, cantering down the main street, looking businesslike and determined. He was the last person she wanted to see today, but she knew he had seen her, so she stayed where she was until he reined his horse in and dismounted.
“I was thinking of you just as I got into town,” he said in his same old companionable way.
“How nice to hear that. Any news for me?”
“I think not. I have a feeling your regular stringers would have scooped me anyway. No, things are quiet. Harold is busy counting his money and Denver North seems satisfied, for the moment. I trust you’ve held good to your word—you’re not going after them this week?”
“No, not this week at any rate. Not that Arch has toned down his moralistic prose about the matter. I wish it were possible, but maybe you can tell me if it is possible, Dennis. Warfield is adamant that he and Frank had some kind of contract. I know I’ve asked you about it before, but it seems to me that whenever I find cause to get rid of him he brings it up, as if I’m supposed to honor it in spite of the circumstances. I know you’ve said you know nothing about it, but …”
He put up a temporizing hand. “I’ll check it out again, Maggie. If he disturbs you that much, there must be a way to terminate him.”
“Thanks, Dennis. Anything else?”
There was a brief pause before he answered her. “Nothing you’d care to listen to.”
His tone was so bitter that she felt a pang. It would have worked out so wonderfully for him if he could have stepped into Frank’s shoes, she thought, as she looked away from him to avoid the pain in his eyes. But she never could have given herself to him, not with the abandon with which she had welcomed Logan’s desire—not Dennis, not ever. She couldn’t picture herself begging for his kisses and wanting to feel his hands on her.
When she looked at him she saw that the hot look in his eyes was still intense, still hopeful. “Don’t put that between us,” she said, reaching out her hand to touch his arm.
He pulled away from her pettishly. “You don’t have to console me, Maggie. I understand the situation clearly. All I want you to do is give me a chance to change your mind—when you’re ready.”
“How can I promise that?”
“Yes, well, we do go around in circles on this particular subject. Let’s just say a pleasant good afternoon then,” he muttered testily, and he mounted and left her standing there utterly nonplussed.
He hadn’t believed her, obviously. What had she told him? She didn’t want to give her life over to a man…. The irony of it. She had given one night to Logan Ramsey and look at how he controlled her thoughts already. She could concentrate on nothing else but the thought of what was to come tonight.
Night fell finally. She was upstairs in her room trying to decide what to wear. Even the notion of taking this time to lay out a wardrobe that would give him the easiest access to her body amused her. She ought to be doing everything she could to obstruct his hands. But still, it was easy to dispense with the bothersome drawers and stockings and just wear the low-heeled kid boots as usual. A skirt … She had an old one that did not require the fasionable draping over a frame that was so impossible on the frontier. And she had a shirtwaist to go with it, but that seemed like too much. How daring did she think she could be?
How daring had he been?
She looked down at the plain cotton camisole she wore in place of the little corset he had destroyed last night. The remnants of her dress hung in her closet to remind her of everything exciting and forbidden. In truth, she needed to wear nothing more than this, and as she decided that she felt her body stiffen and her nipples peak against the soft, much washed material of the camisole.
She licked her lips uncertainly. She was making a statement by the way she dressed, she thought, and she had to be careful that it didn’t lead anywhere but the path she wanted to follow.
Nevertheless, as she donned a jacket over the camisole in preparation for the evening’s after dinner hour with Mother Colleran, she felt the edgy excitement possess her at the knowledge she was naked under those clothes and that very soon, she would be encouraging Logan to discover it too.
She was so aware of her nakedness as she sat with Mother Colleran. With every movement she made she could feel the hardness of her nipples against the camisole and the mounding wetness of her femininity. Her desire flared like a living thing. She wondered that her mother-in-law could not read her salacious thoughts as she sat so decorously across the room from her and reveled in sensual anticipation.
Any moment, any moment … Mother Colleran went to bed. Reese had been long gone. She went to her room and removed her jacket. Ten minutes later, she slipped down the stairs and awaited Logan’s signal.
It came instantly, softly, impatiently, as though he had been waiting a long time. “Hurry,” she breathed, throwing herself into his arms so that the weight of them together eased the door closed. His lips were on hers before he was wholly in the room. His tongue entered her mouth with a long taut thrust, and she opened herself to receive him. A hot wanton wetness possessed her tongue, and she gave herself to it with total sensual abandon. He avidly tasted her all over again, as if he hadn’t spent hours exploring her mouth the night before.
She heard words somewhere in between his luscious kisses; she answered him, hardly breathing the words as his lips hovered above hers, seeking her lips even before she had finished speaking.
“Ah,” she murmured at each firm foray of his tongue between her lips. “I couldn’t wait … I couldn’t wait…” Her tongue sought his. “I couldn’t wait. Kiss me again. Don’t talk …” He didn’t talk. He ki
ssed her and he kissed her, his tongue sliding all over her lips and into her mouth, reaching endlessly for the arousing lushness of her, easing away to murmur against her lips, nipping at her lips, her words inciting him with brazen sensuality as she demanded his kisses.
“Oh yes,” she breathed now and again, “yes—kiss the way you kissed me last night….” He took her tongue between his lips and sucked it just the way he had the night before, arousing them both with the hot lush pulling motion.
He gave in to the sensual sucking, and it was a long, long time before he eased his mouth away from hers; then she knew what he wanted and she wordlessly led him into the privacy of the office and locked that door, while he seated himself at her desk and waited for her to come to him.
Everything now moved in a slow, rhythmic motion. She came to him slowly and slid boldly onto his lap, pressing herself blatantly against his rigid erection, writhing against it, provoking him every way she could think of with her insolent movements. She wanted yesterday, she thought hazily, as she felt the granite length of him even more fully. Consciously or not, she had hiked her skirt up so that she was sitting naked on his lap. She wanted everything that had happened yesterday, and more. …
He felt the difference instantly; it was her naked bottom wriggling so provokingly against his straining hardness. His hands went to her hips, settling her nakedness tightly against his thick length. “Do you feel me?” he murmured, seeking her lips again.
“I feel you,” she whispered, thrilled by the inflexible massiveness of him. “Do you feel me?” she added boldly.
His tongue flicked her lips. “Do you want me to feel you?”
She caught her breath at this potent question. “I want you to feel me,” she whispered.
“Everywhere?”
She could hardly breathe. His whispered words aroused her to a fevered pitch. He knew she was naked beneath her clothes, and he was letting her decide. But what was there to decide when all she could think of was the memory of his hot kisses and caressing fingers arousing her nipple. She wanted that and more. She wanted the feeling of his stiff, virile maleness taut against her bare buttocks, exciting her beyond words.
“Anywhere,” she whispered, enthralled by the potent sex of him. “Everywhere. Just … feel me, now,” and she waited for the caressing touch of his fingers.
His lips hovered over hers. “I know you’re naked under your clothes,” he murmured, and took a long delving kiss inside her mouth.
“I dressed for you,” she whispered. As his tongue sought her sweet taste once more, she felt his hand move from her hip down her leg to the point where he could pull up her skirt and feel the bare flesh of her trembling thigh. She melted against him as his hand contacted skin and began a slow descent toward her foot.
She felt him pull her boot away and his fingers caressing the shape of her foot, feeling each toe, sliding up to her ankle and then upward still until he was holding her naked buttocks in his hand, pressing her more tightly against him, mouth to mouth, body to body. Then she felt both hands under her buttocks feeling the pert roundness of them, exploring every inch of them upward and downward, then settling her nakedness back down hard against his throbbing male member.
He never broke the kiss. Her whole sensation became the caress of his tongue and the feeling of his fingers exploring her feet, her legs, her thighs. Somehow he turned her body so she was facing forward. Her legs were propped up on either side of his and her skirt was pushed all the way back so he had the freedom to feel every inch of her. In turn, she could feel the voluptuous movement of her naked buttocks against his powerful hardness.
She was all open to him, and he leisurely explored all of her that he could feel, sliding both hands all over her, around her body, skimming past the velvet heat of her femininity, grazing the lush tuft that crowned its entry, teasing it, cupping the thrusting mound without entering, and then leaving it, sliding his hands up to her breasts to cover them and to feel her stiff peaked nipples against the flat of his palms.
She went wild in his hands as he pulled away the thin bodice of her camisole and gently took each nipple between his thumb and forefinger just so she could feel the erotic contact. She never wanted to stop feeling his hands on her. From the lush caress of her nipples, his hands sleeked back down her body to her feet and stroked them gently. Then they returned to her thighs and between her legs. Then his concentrated seduction began.
He had possessed her mouth and tongue and now he would possess her entirely. Slowly and expertly he stroked and caressed her silky skin, moving closer and closer to his lush conquest.
She was caught in the hot wet world of his languorous kisses and the slow shimmering heat of his knowledgeable caresses as he shifted unerringly to the velvet center of her with a sure touch. His hands knew just what she wanted him to do. Her hips churned wildly against the hard penetration of his fingers, then every sensation converged on the single driving feeling of him exploring her provocative femininity.
It was too much, it was not enough. Her supple body clamored for more, rippling with the fierce urge to a union that she could not complete. There was only the glimmering sense of it as she strained against him and everything liquefied into the one relentless need to reach the luminous culmination.
She felt one hand, then two, and then herself, open and centered, pliant and bearing down on that one exquisite feeling that was coming … coming … in all its opulent release.
And it came, crackling and cascading all over her, an avalanche of unbearable feeling that threatened to swallow her whole. It pulsed all over her body and eddied away to leave her only with the tantalizing memory of it and the sense of his hands still within, still ready to urge her to further heights.
She didn’t see how she could when her body felt so sated, and she gripped his hands and pulled them away, pushing her skirt down almost protectively before she curled up against him to savor his lovemaking.
Such other ways, she thought wonderingly, as she lifted her mouth to his again. Who could have imagined such possibilities, such fathomless enchantment?
He could.
The words came at her so clearly it was almost like they were written on a sign someplace in her mind.
He could, and he had. He had told her the words, she had given him his vision, and he had given her … rapture.
She knew that while she felt calm about it now, by tomorrow she would be possessed by the insensate yearning to feel his hands on her again.
“When again?” she murmured between the slow leisurely kisses she still demanded from him. “Kiss me first, then tell me,” and he kissed her for a long, long time, while he thought about when and how the next moment could not be too soon.
“Sunday, it should be Sunday, after you’ve gone to press, Maggie.”
“Oh God, Sunday?” she groaned. How would she stand it until Sunday? she wondered fretfully. She felt as if he were gone already, even though he was delivering light little kisses all over her mouth, murmuring reassurances and massaging her shoulders and back comfortingly.
She moved away from him for a moment and suddenly became conscious that her breasts were still bare. In the darkness he could not see, but she knew he had been aware of their thrusting softness against his body. She pulled up her camisole, and reached into her pocket and pressed something into his hand.
“A key?”
“I don’t want you waiting; I don’t want to wait. I want you to be here.”
“I want to be here.”
“Then take the key—and be here Sunday.”
“I’ll be here,” he whispered, and closed his mouth over hers one more time.
Chapter Nine
It was a singularly uninspiring issue of the newspaper and even her regulars knew it.
“You didn’t go after no one this week, Maggie?”
“What’s the matter, lady, you gettin’ mellow?”
“Now boys, what do you think I employ Arch for?” she asked teasingly.
“Now, now, I think we gotta give ole Maggie here another week to get the dirt together. She’ll find that fly in the molasses, you’ll see.”
“Maybe Denver North is laying low,” Maggie suggested in a chilling tone of voice. “Maybe they’re moving in mysterious ways, behind the scenes, and we’re only going to see the results years from now.”
“Oh, Maggie, there ain’t nothing they can do that we ain’t gonna see outright sooner or later.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” she murmured, passing through the crowd into the office.
“Maggie, you’re just born to be a cynic,” a new voice added. She looked up to see Reese following her in through the front door.
“And isn’t it a lucky thing,” she said lightly. “How are you doing today, Reese?”
“Much better now that I’ve seen you. You’ve been damned busy, Maggie,” he said, settling himself down in the chair next to her desk and picking up the copy of the current issue that lay on her worktable. “Hmmm, well, your star reporter is predicting big happenings in town once the building crew comes in. What do you think, Maggie?”
“I think I’ll reserve comment until after the fact.”
“You are the diplomat, Maggie,” he said smiling, but she saw the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. She almost thought there was an underlying double meaning to his response.
“I think I am, actually,” she said, sinking down into her chair, thinking that it held no sensual connotation for her in a room full of noisy people. “Tell me what you’ve been doing these past few days. I don’t think we’ve hardly seen you.”
“And that’s the bossy newspaper lady in you,” he evaded, still with the faint smile on his lips. “I’m finding the company in Colville extremely congenial. I wasn’t particularly counting on you to entertain me, Maggie.”
“Especially after I made it clear I wasn’t going to?” she asked sweetly. “Ah, Reese, let’s not spar with words. Your mother thinks I’m treating you as shabbily as an outdoor cat. You really have to assure her that you are not cut out to be the lackey of a lady boss.”